


Iris

by icantreallyfindausername



Category: Frozen (2013), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 17:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14289693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icantreallyfindausername/pseuds/icantreallyfindausername
Summary: "His fingers closed the distance between them, reaching her cheek, grazing it for an instant-"As Jack watches Elsa and tries to find a way to communicate with her despite his invisibility, he struggles to not let his love destroy him.Inspired by the Goo Goo Dolls' "Iris"





	Iris

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Irises are symbols for royalty, hope and courage. They were also planted on the graves of women since ancient Greece.

Sometimes, it just felt wrong. He would feel an uneasiness growing inside him, making him swallow hard and question why he was spending his nights perched on a windowsill, peering inside that castle. Why, when he had the power of wind at his fingertips, ready to take him anywhere in the world, he would stay in that little forgotten kingdom. The answer was right in front of him, a few short yet insuperable feet away. He would look at her, at how her features relaxed in her slumber and shone in the moonlight, and he would feel his heart swell. A sigh would often escape his lips, a small sound of longing and melancholy. Only at night the girl looked peaceful, only then did she forget her powers, her curse, how she would refer to it. Many times he had wished for her to see her magic for what it truly was: a gift, to be cherished, to be shared with the world.  
Yet she kept to herself, scared and miserable. And Jack kept watching over her, feeling powerless, feeling wrong. 

And how could it have been otherwise? It was wrong, to see her without being seen, to be there when she struggled, when she ached, when she cried, to observe her and do nothing. He felt like a thief, robbing her of the one thing she had control over, of the privacy that came with her loneliness.  
It was wrong, yet he could not tear himself away. He had tried, time and again, to leave and forget about the girl with sad eyes. He would abandon his place on the ledge and fly to attend his duties, spreading winter, bringing ice and frost. Kids would beam at the arrival of snow, some of them even catching sight of him and recognizing who he was, but their smiles no longer warmed his heart. The fun he brought to them only reminded him of how he was incapable of cheering up the girl. Elsa. He had learned her name some time ago, from bits of conversations overheard at the castle, like he had learned many things about her. Her confinement. Her pain. Her guilt. There was still much he did not know, a comprehension that he was thirsty for, but he was certain that it would make no difference. No new information could change how connected he felt to her, or how unable he was to reach her.

He remembered the first time he had seen her, how he had been so struck by her that for a moment he had forgotten about being invisible. Yet fate had quickly reminded him, as he vainly waved at the girl, tried to talk to her, to tap her shoulder as she did not respond. His hand had passed right through her and she had walked away.  
Momentarily crestfallen, he had soon resolved to find another way to communicate with her. In the following days he had waited for her to look up from her books during the long hours of study and had used his gift to send elegant icy twirls to embroider the windowpanes. But when Elsa had noticed, she had only recoiled from the window in horror, fearing how her powers seemed to have escaped her once again. With a pang of guilt, Jack had quickly made the frost vanish.

Fortune seemed to have favored him when one afternoon she had left her window opened before leaving the room. Taking advantage of the rare occasion, Jack had searched her library for books about his myth and had left them lying on the ground, as if they had fallen and accidentally opened on just the right page. He had hoped to spark her curiosity, but he had had no such luck.  
On another day, maybe, she would have read them, with the same interest she seemed to demonstrate toward all readings, but that evening she was especially disheartened. Unbeknownst to the winter spirit, Elsa had spent the past hours analyzing the political and economical issues her country was facing, under the attentive guidance of her father, and, as she had done so, a familiar yet unwelcome feeling had started creeping up on her. She had begun wondering how she would have ever been able to rule a kingdom without controlling her powers and the certainty of her own inability as a monarch had quickly overcome her mind.  
When she had returned, her eyebrows had raised ever so slightly in surprise at the sight of the fallen books and she had simply picked the texts up and put them back without a second thought.  
That evening, Jack had vowed to leave her alone, to go away and never think about her again. For some reason, not being seen by this particular human hurt more than when nobody had believed in him and the dull pain was dimming his spirit little by little. He was still himself enough to notice the change and understand how irresponsible it was to let himself become distant and miserable when he was the guardian of fun. He had to go.

And for a short while, he really did stay away. He ignored how his mind whispered her name, how the wind kept taking him back toward Arendelle when he was not careful enough, how his heart ached for her. It was ridiculous, he told himself, and he kept travelling further away. But he found himself becoming more and more disconnected, not caring about the children enough to start snowball fights or to joke around. Until one night, he finally gave in and returned to see the princess.

He immediately knew that something was wrong. An unnatural silence seemed to have spread over the kingdom and a chill settled deep in his bones as he flew over the deserted streets, quicker and quicker, arriving at Elsa’s window.  
The long purple curtains were billowing in the wind, like waves thrashing against rocks in a tempest, catching on the rough outer stone of the palace and snapping. Inside, a storm seemed to rage, covering the floor with snow, ice creeping up the bedposts, the desk, the walls, encasing the whole room. In the white, wafting confusion, Jack could barely see her. Elsa was on the floor, curled up in a corner, uncontrollably crying her heart out as her whole body shook with grief.  
Stricken, he pushed the window and slipped inside, landing softly on the snow. Elsa’s eyes shot up, suddenly alert, paralyzing him in his place for a moment. Jack took a deep breath and silently, cautiously, dared to approach her, the way one would approach a scared and wounded doe, walking slowly toward her as she stood up, trembling, back against the wall. Her tears had stopped but her expression was unreadable. His bare feet traded carefully on the frosted wooden floor, his gaze never leaving her eyes.  
A shard of hope unfurled inside of him, warm but treacherous, ready to abandon him at a moment’s notice. Ever so slowly, he reached out a hand, stopping mere inches before her face. Could she-? He was not sure he wanted to know. He wished that moment of uncertainty, of anticipation, could last forever, that he could just be content with the hope that she could see him.  
But he had to know.  
His fingers closed the distance between them, reaching her cheek, grazing it for an instant- before passing right through her. Jack closed his eyes, letting his hand fall in defeat. He should have known, should have expected it, but the disappointment burned deep within him.  
Retreating, he glanced at her again. She was still standing, looking in his direction, slight confusion on her face and a delicate alabaster hand touching her cheek exactly where Jack had tried to. He knew that she felt him somehow.

After that night, Jack could hardly leave the castle. He waited and observed, as the young princess, together with the whole kingdom, mourned the loss of the monarchs. It was a dignified, quiet sort of grief, so very different from what Jack had seen in Elsa’s eyes, from the raw pain that had unleashed her powers.  
Ever so slowly, Arendelle and its inhabitants resumed their daily lives, and the winter spirit still waited, watching Elsa as she prepared to become queen, as she struggled, more than ever, with her magic. The loss of her parents and the impending destiny as a ruler seemed to take a toll on her. All she did was study and work and hide away in her room, trying to reduce contact with others as much as possible, almost forgetting to eat and, more often than not, only falling asleep in the small hours of the night, still at her desk. Jack watched her fill with anxiety any time the coronation date was mentioned, he alone noticed the tremor of her hands and the slight glistening of her frosted fingertips. But time moved on, relentlessly, season changed and still Jack waited, perched at her window.

On a day when the air was sweet with the smell of fresh flowers and the sun was warm on the guardian’s face, he heard a familiar voice call to him over the delighted screams of children. Like a vision from another life, the Easter Bunny was looking up at Jack and in a few hops he had reached a tree branch close to him.  
An instant of surprise and Jack quickly averted his eyes. His cheeks reddened slightly as a sudden anger filled him, for he did not need another guardian’s admonishing him and reminding him of his negligence. He did not need Bunny to tease him, to taint his feelings towards Elsa with shame and guilt. His gaze fell on her again, on her lovely but melancholic eyes, which shone like sapphires in the sun, and his expression softened again.  
It took the Easter Bunny barely a moment to understand, then his voice filled with sympathy and concern. “She’s mortal, mate. It can’t end well.”  
Deep inside, Jack already knew. He had known since the very beginning, yet it did not matter. Elsa was the closest to heaven that he had ever been, he could not leave her, he could not go away. Whatever pain may come, it would be worth it, he told himself, hoping it was true.

But he was wrong. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and the glimmer of hope that night had given him seemed to become dimmer and dimmer. Elsa’s own light seemed to waver, as the coronation drew nearer and her anxiety grew. Yet to watch her and do nothing, to be utterly unable to help the person he loved was agony for Jack. Every day seeing her suffer was poison, feeling her quiet anguish was torture.

And then he couldn’t take it anymore. He fled, leaving a stream of untimely bitter cold behind him. Everywhere, budding blossoms and crops froze, vicious flurries of snow attacked deserts and savannahs, until he reached the wintery darkness of the Antarctic. There, as alone as he was lonely, he cried against fate, that cruel tyrant who had allowed him to see Elsa but never be seen, to long for her while she could never know of his existence. He grieved and raged, cursing her ephemeral nature, his immortality, himself. His shouts gradually turned to sobs, for the weight of unfairness and impotence crushed him. Helpless, he allowed his mind to play back the memories of her, fearing they would turn him mad shut inside his head. He stared blankly at the sky, not seeing a single star, just remembering the faintest way his fingers grazed her soft skin, and that split second of hope…

Time blurred. It dissolved into a seemingly endless night, where days slipped one into the next, turning into weeks, and weeks into months, and months into years. 

And one day Jack started moving again. To the nearest places, at first, spreading snow to Patagonia and some minor islands, fulfilling his duties mostly out of sense of responsibility, without any real interest. Maybe he did not suffer anymore, but he felt a lack of purpose which left him devastatingly empty. The look of surprise on people’s faces at the return of snow went completely unnoticed, and he kept flying. He moved to lower latitudes, compensating for the time he had been absent. Ice covered the mountaintops again, while gusts of cold air robbed trees of their leaves, and Jack moved on.

He just existed, waiting, as one would wait for ice to thaw. And slowly, painfully, his wounds healed, his hearth mended, and he began to forget. Recalling her voice became difficult. Remembering just the right shade of her eyes was impossible. And trying to evoke her smile was just unnecessary. As an icicle melting drop by drop, the memory of Elsa had disappeared into nothingness.

He kept moving, avoiding Arendelle at first by conscious effort, then almost subconsciously, until finally he forgot there was something to avoid at all, and he returned.  
It was late December, but no snow dusted the rooftops, no cold wind chilled the air. Surprised and slightly perplexed, Jack approached the castle. In a remote corner of his mind, something stirred and he started to recall just why he had expected the kingdom to be blanketed in snow despite his absence, just whom he had expected to bring winter to Arendelle. Vainly he searched the streets and squares for her, trying to catch a glimpse of her fair hair, more and more confused by the moment.  
And then a snippet of conversation transformed his confusion into worry.  
“…struggling to find a single piece of ice for miles, I tell you! With the warmth the has swept the country since the young queen is no longer on the throne…”  
“You mean since she commit-” The man was shushed quickly by the other, scolding him for relaying such vile rumors, but Jack had heard enough.  
Anxious, unwilling to believe that such a statement could truly mean what it might, he rushed to court, frantically trying to find a window to the throne room, until one finally gave way. And there, the throne was empty, shrouded in black, as was the whole hall. But it couldn’t be, it just couldn’t…  
Still incredulous, still clinging to an irrational bit of hope, he hurried away from the castle, from the city, on a quiet stretch of land where he had seen Elsa go just once, right after the night that had haunted his memories.  
Not too far from the king and queen’s tombstones, rested a new one.  
Jack did not need to read the incision to know who it belonged to. But as his eyes filled with furious, desperate tears, his gaze fell on the date of death, too painfully close to that of birth, and his heart seemed to stop. Not one month after he had fled the kingdom, Elsa had died.  
Devastated, Jack sank to the ground and cried his pain as never before.

Arendelle was covered in snow again. Long winters that started in late October and lasted well into March restored the kingdom to its ancient customs, and people returned to their trades and time-honored traditions. But when summer came, the ice thawed and people rejoiced as the seasons turned once again.  
In all of the country, only a small patch of land seemed immune to the warmth. The tombstone of young queen Elsa was covered in elegant frost spirals and a single purple iris encased in ice forever kept vigil on her grave.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love your constructive criticism, please review! And thank you for reading this!


End file.
